Never Give Into Pressure

I loathed her. I could feel my body swell with burning hatred whenever I looked at her, those seductive denim eyes gleaming, full red lips, luscious under their multiple coats of lip gloss, and her flawless skin, pale like a porcelain doll’s. I would watch her, standing expressionless, staring back at me, searching for an answer to an unasked question. Gradually her eyes would take on a mocking expression, lips spread into a smirk, and I knew she’d found what she was looking for. Weakness.
We both knew what I really was. A sensible, quiet girl with a modest upbringing, my idea of a great night was to curl up in front of the fire with a good book. I wasn't really the type to go out clubbing; drinking, popping pills, going home with random men, but the reputation I’d acquired at the beginning of that highschool year demanded it.
I’d never received much male attention before then, but for some ...